


Falcon's Flight (Edited and Reuploaded)

by delusionalintrospection



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Fantasy, Gay, Lesbian, M/M, Steampunk, scifi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-12 01:35:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13536876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delusionalintrospection/pseuds/delusionalintrospection
Summary: Once upon a time, our world was invaded. Now, there's a timid sort of peace- but how long will it last, with someone trying so hard to make war again? Especially when the two groups who could save us all are too busy being at one another's throats...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Lo all! I've begun the editing process for Falcon's Flight and re-uploaded it as I go. I'd REALLY appreciate reveiws and comments this round, guys; it means a lot! Thanks!

No one was totally sure where it came from. It was just there one day like it had always been there. A huge, beautiful painting of a woman easily taller than most people, all vibrant colors with a beautiful, peaceful field in the background. It appeared in the middle of town as if someone had just-erected it, overnight. No one really thought much of it- such strange things happened in Azule Falls that it was just one more odd thing to ponder. 

She was a beautiful woman; her smile was gentle, on soft, full lips, and her blue eyes were warm and kind. She wore a dress as green as moss, and her soft blonde hair curled down past her hips, loose and full. I liked her, personally. There was no name on the painting, so no one to give credit to, but people would sometimes leave money on the ground near her.

It was, in theory, to thank the painter, and in most places you might say oh, well, that's stupid, anyone could just take it. And normally, you'd be right.

And yet.

And yet, people were having dreams of a beautiful woman with flowing blonde hair and kind blue eyes, followed by amazing luck. I stood in front of the huge painting, head tilted back to see all the way to the top. Our team was fairly small; myself, my older brother Amerok, my best friend, Synclair, our other friend, Piper, and my brother's boyfriend, Harli. We were a small, specialized team; we had to be. Being undercover was our specialty. A small group of young men and women; no one suspected a thing. We were simply a small group of teens who liked to travel; who had been drawn to this town because of the rumors surrounding the painting. It wasn't too far off from the truth.

“The power it gives off is incredible.” Harli drawled, with a whistle. His hair-bright red this week- flopped over one green eye, as he leaned closer and pushed his glasses up on his nose, further.

“I say we stay for a week, watch to see what, if any fallout, follows.” My brother said, in his calm, cold voice. My brother is something of a legend both in the Order and the Shadow; there are rumors that he's trained himself not to feel, that he's not human himself, but secretly one of the Visitors. I could sometimes see where the rumors came from. They were, of course, just rumors; my brother felt as much as anyone else, he just- was good at locking it down and doing what needed to be done however he, personally, felt about it.

The Order was- is-a few groups of men and women chosen by the leaders of each small, floating city to control and contain magical aberrations and artifacts. The Shadow? Well, that's us. We take what we want, when we want it, usually for the highest bidder. The Order...doesn't really care for us.

“Well, people have already been paying tribute to it,” Piper replied, folding her arms and looking around us at the people moving around, blissfully oblivious. “It's not like we can do anything about that part now; Amerok's got a point. We could move it out now, without waiting, or we can see what happens. If nothing negative happens-”

“Yeah, I'm not willing to bet any money on that-”

“Hush, Harli- if nothing negative happens, then we take it.”

Amerok arched a brow. “Assuming stealing it isn't exactly what sets off repercussions.”

“If that idea scares you,” Piper challenged. “Then you're in the wrong line of work.”

“Maybe you should go work for the Order instead.” I added, and Harli barked a laugh while Piper smacked me upside the head.

“Don't even joke like that! They'd kill us if they could.”

“I don't think so.” Synclair murmured. “Lock us up, maybe, turn us in, but-”

“Don't be naive,” I muttered with a snort. “We're talking about a company that doesn't even want people to have magic. At all. What do you think they'd do to a group of thieves that sell magical artifacts?”

“Say it louder, Bast.” Amerok grunted.

That told you everything it needed to about our parents, didn't it? One child named Amerok, one named Bast- who needs normal names that won't get your kid made fun of endlessly in high school?

Okay, that didn't actually happen. People thought my name was cool, and people were too afraid to fuck with Amerok if they did think he had a goofy name. Besides- we'd not had a chance to be in school together before _It_ had happened.

“So we watch.” Piper interrupted our bickering. “And you guys do know that the Order will show up, sooner or later. We don't have a lot of time.” “We have long enough.” Amerok rumbled. “We'll get a hotel, give it a week."

See, the thing is, unlike most thieves, we actually had to be careful. Didn't help that we weren't freelance; like I said, we were part of a group called the Shadow. Stealing magical artifacts was what we did, professionally. So when we lifted something, we had to make sure it wasn't cursed or evil-or, if it was, that at least we were all on the same page about it. _Including_ the buyer.

Yeah, some people will buy items knowing they're cursed. Sometimes they're just that desperate.

“Fair enough. I'll get us a couple rooms.” Synclair snorted. “I'll go with you. Make sure we're not sleeping with rat bedmates.”

“Hey!”

“Bast, you are many things, but discerning about where you sleep isn't one.”

“I'm discerning!”

“You fell asleep on the ground in an alley.”

“I was _tired_ -” I pouted, folding my arms in a huff.

“My point has been proven.”

“I'd just gotten my ass kicked!”

Synclair laughed a little, patted me on the shoulder, guiding me back towards the city and away from the square. I knew he was mostly just teasing, but the simple fact was that Synclair was a snob; he'd always been and he probably always will be. It was in the way he looked still, even; his short red-brown hair always neat, tucked into a mid length shag combed back and slicked down, with just this...little rebellious bit that liked to sneak free and fall into one brilliantly green eye. His skin was clear and unmarked, pale and smooth; he had dimples, for fuck's sake, when he smiled. His hands were smooth and uncalloused, long fingered and delicate. He hadn't ever done hard work in his life. Pretty in a way very few people could afford to be, these days- Synclair was the model of upper class.

Behind us, Amerok was already leading Piper and Harley away from the portrait; Piper had split off from the group and was talking to a small, gathered bunch of onlookers- gathering as much information as she could as the other two wandered from vendor to vendor as if simply admiring wares. Maybe they really were, in some ways- I knew Harli was, at least. Amerok was probably just following him for appearance's sake, as well as keeping an eye open for anything that may be more subtly magical. He was good at sensing that shit.

“Tiny inns,” I determined, after a few minutes of walking- “Nothing too nice. Sorry, Syn.”

“It's a small town.” Synclair shrugged. “Kind of in the middle of nowhere, too. I can't say I'm too surprised.”

“I'm surprised you're not complaining louder-”

He whapped me up the back of the head- twice in less than ten minutes, _damn_. “I can live without room service for a week.”

“Are you sure? It's asking an awful lot-”

A hand to his forehead and a swoon. “I will be strong, young lad. For you, I will be strong!” I dissolved into sniggers. At least he was self-aware.  
  
See, Synclair was from Old Earth, and just a little bit of a snob, like I said.

I was just a tiny kid when the Visitors came, maybe two or three, and I'm twenty now-when science pushed it just a little too far. We got the attention of the Visitors; and one day, when I was being walked home from school by my big brother, hand in hand, the sky split open and the world uprooted. They must have planned it- rifts opened in the sky all over the world at almost the exact moment. It was so perfectly synchronized that it had to have been planned. They came through in massive swarms with no warning; people that looked like humans but wielded magic, walking, talking storybook characters.

Except these weren't coming on some grand adventure to save us. No, these wanted to conquer us. And they did just that.

They threw our world into pure chaos. Large chunks of earth suddenly becoming air borne and strange creatures right out of fantasy charging into the streets will do that. Of course, we all asked-why didn't the military beat them back? Because maybe you missed the part where they had _magic_. Also, where they hit various places over the earth all at once. The whole parts of earth suddenly just deciding, well you know, fuck gravity, who needs it? kind of sent us all reeling, I guess. It didn't help that it took people with it when it did this.

It only took them a scant few years to totally overthrow humanity's hold on the planet and replace it with their own. Only around seven years and they had us totally subjugated. I was one of the people who got lifted into the air-I don't even remember Old Earth. My mom, my dad, Amerok and I- all hoisted up into the sky when our city was. The aftermath was...pretty ugly. A lot of people died. People died in the initial invasion, in the war following, and then just- afterward. People who were trapped in the sky leaped to their death in panic and despair. Our parents were just more, ya know? Just another statistic. We all know we lost a ton of people. Hundreds. They just- couldn't take it. It was too much; they couldn't cope. Some people took the more old-fashioned way out. Then, of course, people died simply trying to adjust, in the years following. I mean, the Visitors surprisingly- helped us to adjust and learn to survive in our new world to the best of the ability, but especially those relocated to the sky.

Our bodies weren't used to the altitude, the change in temperature, and besides that, a lot of us just...didn't want to try. But time heals all wounds, like they say. And in time...well. Here we were, right? A subjugated people now under the rule of monarchy instead of government; people oppressed and trapped by a race that came out of imagination, beasts that shouldn't exist but did. Something like seventeen or eighteen years later, here we were, standing on a floating city named Azule Falls... and living.

Thriving, even. And sometimes, that's...well. Take what you can get, right?

But Synclair's a snob because he's from Old Earth- the bits of Earth that somehow _didn't_ get lifted into the sky. You can really only live there if you're important or rich enough. 

Yeah. He spent most of his life there- and now he was here. With us. Nothing fishy there at all, Syn. 

“Why don't we just go back to the ship?” I pointed out.

“You know the answer to that.” Synclair rolled his eyes. “It would 'blow our cover' if someone saw us. The _Gyrfalcon_ isn't exactly unknown.”

I shrugged. In my humble opinion, we were good enough to make sure that didn't happen, but hey. I didn't have a problem sleeping in an inn; I'd spent most of my childhood sleeping in gutters, for God's sake.

Eh, maybe Synclair was right about the whole 'would sleep anywhere' thing.

We made our way to the first halfway decent looking inn we could find, slipping through vendors and edging our way past a line of mechanized horses (easier to keep and own in a world that wasn't on the ground floor; real horses were too panicky and hard to care for, up here) before we made it to the place, and I tugged the door open for him.

Inside was something I never thought I would get used to. I did, obviously; it's kinda funny, what we can actually learn to accept when we don't have a choice. And talking humanoid cats? It could be worse. It _was_  worse, just go out to the wilds of some of these floating cities. Human-cats were downright tame compared to some of the shit out there.

They were actually called Felae, but damn if I cared; they were cat-people. The one behind the desk at this end was young and tall, a pretty girl in a light blue mid-drift revealing top and long, gauzy skirt. Her huge ears were tufted at the points with white fur, otherwise, she was all over sleek gray fur. Her slit-pupil eyes were green, and even though her smile was pleasant, it was on an animalistic face that wasn't really meant to move like that, and slightly surreal. Plus, _teeth_.  “Hello, gentlemen. Can I help you?” She greeted, in that thickly-purring accented voice the Felae had, all soft 'hs' and tiny voices.

“Uh, hi.” I grinned and gave her a little wave. “We need- three rooms? Two, if it's all you have, will work-”

“We have three rooms, sir.” She replied, with a little bobbing bow; they were almost compulsively polite. She told me the price, and while I paid, Synclair twisted around to rest his elbows on the counter. His expression was scornful, nose wrinkled, and I rolled my eyes as I turned back to him.

I sometimes wondered why he was here; he was so obviously not fond of air travel, of being up here- would obviously rather be down there on Old Earth. I _very_ often wondered what it was he did, what it was he was running from, that had him with us.  
  
Like I said- it was fishy as hell, be real.

“Alright, got the keys. Let's go check out the goods, huh?”

“One moment.” Synclair turned back to the girl. “What is it you know about that painting in the square, sweetheart?”

Oh, and I knew that voice. Synclair already had a drawling southern accent; and when he decided to turn up the charm, he knew how to do it, and how to use that accent to his advantage. Fucking weapon of mass destruction, that accent, and we could all only pray he used his powers for good. And there was the other ammo- the dimpled smile, just on one side; the wrinkled corners of eyes that glittered with good nature. The way he tipped his head just so, so that little rebellious bit of hair dipped into one eye, charmingly. He leaned close so her delicate nose could get a whiff of him, too; of expensive, cinnamon-scented cologne and vanilla soap. Rook went on  _thunderous_ rants about how much Synclair spent on that stuff. 

“The- painting?” She twitched an ear, head tilting slightly. “Not much, sir. I don't partake much in gossip, sir." That figured. Like I said- polite to a fault.

“You haven't gone to try it?” He leaned a little closer to her. “Why am I not surprised? A pretty little thing like you doesn't need good luck.”

She blushed- you could barely see it through her fur- and put her ears back shyly. “I-” She peeked up. “I mean, my friends and I did, but-”

“Ah, you _did_?”

“Yes, sir, but I can't say I was brave enough to actually leave anything. I watched them, but-” Interesting. I wondered if the magic in the painting would be upset with this girl, for not participating. If it was at all sentient.

“Not cowardice, my dear, wisdom. To be cautious is to be smart.” He smiled again, and she ducked her head again, shyly.

“Alright, Casanova.” I muttered. “Enough.”

He glanced over at me, arching a brow. “Crude, Bast.” He replied, then pushed off the counter lightly. He flashed her another charming smile, a playful little bow that made her giggle, and then took my elbow.

"Watch her.” He murmured, in my ear, “Find out where she's staying and have Rook put someone on her.”

“Already thought it.” I murmured, tugging up my sleeve to the communicator there. Cell phones were a thing of the past; the magic that had come through with the Visitors had fucked up airwaves and most current electronics. Computers, cell phones- luckily, the Visitors all had their own methods of long distance communication and research.

Technology that meshed well with their world, and now, with ours. Like the communicator on my wrist.

Think of a cell phone, but instead of entering a person's phone number, you entered their first and last name and keyed in a code specific to them. Then, where ever they were, their own communicator would alert them to you trying to get a hold of them.

The problem with this is that you have got to know, and clearly speak, the person's full name. The things are hard coded to you; if you want one, you've got to get registered and tagged. I knew a ton of people who refused to have one just because they don't want that. I'd always been surprised Rook kept his.

So I waited until we got into the rooms. They were nice, as far as they went- Synclair made a low noise of distaste, but I liked them. It was small, painted in warm colors; the bed was large and soft, and there was a tv in the corner. Or what passed for a TV- remember I said they'd brought their own forms of technology? Yeah.  It was _mostly_ like a TV, close enough that really, just- think of it like one. Differances were pretty minisucle.   
  
The floors were rich, dark wood, and plants wound their way up the in and outside of the windows, filling the room with the smell of flowers I knew and ones less familiar; plants from the Visitor's world mingling with the scent of ones I'd smelled as a child. In a way, it felt appropriate. Two cents- the two worlds- mingling together as one, clashing and merging.

I was feeling poetic, it seemed.

I closed the door behind us as Synclair took a seat on the bed, gently locking it, and spoke, at last, into the little device on my wrist. “Azariah Tremaine. Code 5774.”

There was a pause, a series of beeps, and then the familiar, crisp accent- “Hey, there you two are. How loud is Syn whining?”

“Fuck you, Rook.” Echoed from the bathroom, sing-songed and not at all offended. I grinned as Rook laughed warmly.

“Why are you calling me?”

I sat back on the bed. “There's a girl here- lil Felidae- who says she went to the portrait with her friends but didn't wish or leave anything. Syn and I think maybe someone should keep an eye on her.”

“In case that backfires? Alright, not a bad idea. Put Piper on it.” Figured. Pip was about the least intimidating of us all, and one of the few that remembered...well. You know- that manners were a thing.

“I'll go get her." Synclair offered, coming back and still wrinkling his nose at the bed. “Better than reminding myself where I'll have to sleep for the next week.”

“Oh, c'mon, Syn, it's not that bad-” I protested, interrupted by his snort as he pushed back out the wooden door.

“Maybe not for a guttersnipe,” He snipped, and I was reminded what a dick I had made friends with, for some asinine reason.

“Go step on a marble.” I grunted, flopping down on the soft pillows. Okay, so 'soft' was pushing it- maybe they were a bit scratchy. But hell, they were pillows, don't bloody complain. I mean, he wasn't wrong- not really. Amerok and I had been gutter trash, for years, before Rook had found us and picked us up. Or, rather, before my dumb eight-year-old self-had tried to pickpocket him. Rather than kill me, he'd laughed, told me I had talent, and turned me into a protégé of sorts. So really, like I said- Synclair wasn't wrong.

That didn't mean it stung any less.

I think I feel asleep. I know that sounds crazy, to fall asleep when in the middle of a massive potential theft, but it had been a long flight and a long day and the bed was comfy. I closed my eyes-

-and when I woke again, someone was screaming.


	2. Chapter 2

The scream jolted me from asleep to awake in the time it took me to sit up; no ‘wake up’ time. Reflex and old habit, and when I sat up the first thing I was aware of was that Amerok was in the room with me. That he’d gotten in without waking me wasn’t actually a surprise. I knew him, even subconsciously. He was already dressed, strapping his pistols on under the long brown duster he wore. That _was_ a surprise.

“Do you actually...sleep...in your clothes? I'm starting to think you sleep in your clothes.”

“Don’t be a smartass. You fell asleep absurdly early. Harliquinn and I were only just getting ready to sleep.” He tugged his shoulder length blonde hair into a ponytail. “Get up. Get dressed.”

“I didn’t dream that scream, then?”

“Very much not.”

I slid out of bed, my own dark hair flopping into my eyes. Mine was shorter, barely to the base of my chin, and streaked through with various colors. People sometimes joked that was the best way to tell us apart, even the only way at a quick glance. Otherwise, age difference aside, Amarock and I could be twins.

Another scream got my ass out of musing mode and into action.

I grabbed the gunblade that was my weapon of choice- a weapon that was pretty much what it said on the tin. A flick of my wrist, and it was a long, heavy blade. Another, and it rotated on a swirl of gears to become a very short range, very powerful shotgun- and turned to face him again. “What the hell’s happening? Is everyone okay?”

“Everyone here is fine. I can’t raise Rook or anyone on the Falcon.” My brother was concerned. I knew how to see it.  _That_ was enough to concern  _me_. 

“Rook’s smart and quick. I’m sure they’re fine.” I tried to reassure, but even I felt a surge of worry. Not being able to raise someone was not, generally, a good sign, and that- wasn’t like them. I hoped I wasn’t lying. 

Behind my brother, Harli appered. I couldn’t see them, but I knew the plethora of daggers that were hidden on his person were more then ready to be launched. “Piper?” I asked, and Harli motioned down the hall. “She and Synclair went to see what, exactly, is going on.”

I nodded, tugging on my own coat and looking out the window down below. 

And I felt my breath catch for a moment. 

Outside, nothing but bright golden light. It was racing across the city like a living creature, so bright it was almost painful- but God, so beautiful. I almost wanted to...reach out to it. To  _touch_ it, to feel it burn, feel it scald me brilliant and bright-

“What the hell?-“ As if from a million miles away.

“Bast."  
  
 _"Bast."_  
  
"Bast!”

I realized rather belatedly that Amerok had been trying to get my attention for- what, nearly five straight minutes? “What is that?” I managed, and could hear how choked my own voice was. 

“I think,” Amarock replied, his voice terse and calm in the way the eye of a storm is calm, “That it’s the painting.” 

“The-“ I stopped as the communicator on my wrist started buzzing. 

“Oh thank God.” Piper whispered, and I pressed the ‘receive’ button. “There you are.” I breathed. “We were concerned.” 

“Awww, worried about lil’ old me?” Rook’s voice rang with laughter. “How sweet!” 

“Go fuck yourself, Rook, people are dying outside.” Piper snapped, from behind me. 

“Dying?” I hadn’t seen anything but a light. And then I realized-

“Piper. When did-“

“You were staring at that light for nearly ten minutes.” Synclair was here, too- now I saw him in a corner. “I thought Amerok was going to hurl you out the window just to get your attention.” 

I winced, glancing back, but Amerok refused to look at me. Later. We’d talk about this later. He didn't like admitting when I scared him. He didn't like admitting how terrified he was of losing his one remaining family.   
  
Too bad for him, I knew  _just_ how terrified he was first hand. 

For now, I turned my attention back to Rook. “Where are you?” 

“On the move.” I could hear his grin again. Fucking lunatic. “It seems our friends from the Order showed up sometime last night. Like everything else they manage to get right, they accidentally stumbled over us. I decided it might be better to live to fight another day, especially when that painting of ours decided to go guard dog on us all.” 

“So that light is the painting.” Harli murmured.

“Yep. It, uh- it’s not too happy about us being here. Any of us. Outsiders at all.” 

“Fantastic.” Synclair groaned. “Of course it isn’t.”   
  
"Why didn't it attack earlier?" I asked, glancing in confusion at Amerok even though I knew he couldn't have any better way of knowing then I did. Some things were instinctive.  He shrugged at me. 

“I think it’s probably best for us to get the hell gone.” I recognized Rook’s first mate’s voice. Amused, but also sharply alert. “We'll discuss it when we're safe. Get to the pick-up point. Yesterday.” 

  
We didn’t need telling twice. We moved. A pack of wolves, moving as one, down the hall, teeth bared, claws at the ready, snapping and growling good-naturedly at each other as we went. It was how we sloughed off the fear, bolstering each other and picking at each other.  _I'm not scared, you're scared_. Anyone and thing that got in our way was in for one hell of an ugly surprise. 

We didn’t encounter anything but scared, innocent civilians until we got back down into the lobby, though. And there, in the room-

-I'd thought the person screaming had been confronted by the Order. They tended to be bullies, using force and fear to get their way. Especially in a crisis situation- it was their way of grabbing control of the situation.   
  
It didn't always work.   
  
  


But she hadn’t been screaming about the Order. I mean, the Order was here- it was the first thing we saw, members of their crew. But she was screaming about what was happening to them. 

The light was chasing them. And every single one it touched simply- burned away. It was-

-yeah, okay, it was terrifying. And I realized, with a sick feeling in my gut, that  _it had wanted to do that to me_. It must have had a mildly hypnotic effect if you stared right at it too long. Not that these people seemed to have done that; they were running for their lives. It...wasn't doing much good. The girl at the counter was crying, cowering behind the desk, and I recognized her as the cute little Felidae that Synclair had been flirt

“ _Move_!” Amerok’s deep voice boomed in my ear, then he grabbed my shoulder, yanking me back. Where I’d ben standing, the light abruptly lashed out. It missed me by inches, and Piper screamed. Synclair grabbed her hand.

“Run!” He yelled, and that was exactly what we did. We bolted, past dying people, past the blazing light. We ran, some of us holding hands, others alone. No one abandoned, though, no one forgotten. Not ever. We were family. 

Out to the square in town. People were still dropping like flies-I could see it, out of my periphery. We kept moving- if anyone faltered, someone grabbed them and dragged them onward. We didn't look at anyone else too closely. We didn't look back. We didn't stop. We didn't hesitate.   
  
We just  _ran_.

And then, finally, thank God, there she was.

The _Gyrfalcon_. Built for speed and agility rather then power or force, she was small and dark, the wood almost black, her sails silver. Even as I watched, those sails folded down, the ship’s metal shell coming up around her, thrusters emerging like dragons from caves. And then the bridge lowered for us. I pushed Piper ahead of me, then grabbed the rungs myself and followed her up. Amerok was just behind me, and Synclair behind him, Harli bringing up the rear. Even as the last of us clambered up, the thrusters kicked in, and we lurched violently, nearly kicking me to the floor. 

A strong hand grabbed my shoulder, righting me before I hit the ground. I grinned sheepishly up at it’s owner, who gave me an affectionate smirk. Callista- the first mate. She patted my shoulder before tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder. “I thought you had your air legs by now, Bast.” She teased, making Amerok snort from behind me. I blushed and swatted her hand away. “Very funny.” I grumbled. “Bet you two did that on purpose.” 

“Now you’re just being paranoid.” She flashed me a grin. “I’m not that talented with timing. Close, but no cigar, as the saying goes?” 

“If you don’t know the phrase, don’t use it.” I grumbled, and Amerok smacked me upside the back of the head for no damn good reason as he passed by. I yelped in wounded protest, rubbing the spot with what was most definatly not a pout. 

“Not how you talk to a lady.” Piper sniffed, also walking past. 

“It would help if she was a lady.” I snipped, and Callista laughed warmly, not offended in the least. I’d know she wouldn’t be. “Less of a lady then you, for damn sure.” She returned. 

“Ohhh.” Harli barked a laugh as I growled at Callista’s retreating back.

“Kids, can we focus on the problem and bicker later?” Rook’s rich accent filled my ears, amused. 

“She’s antagonizing me!” 

“I don’t care who started it, I will turn this ship around and finish it!”

Callista laughed again, and I grinned, coming into the cockpit. Rook was probably not what you’d picture when you imagined an airship pirate, and at the same time exactly what you’d imagine. His hair was very long- past his hips- and chestnut in color, a brown that was damn near red. It was a mess of braids and bangles, feathers and beads, held back in the thick braid for the most part. Bits fell free around his face, and it was a delicate face with a seemingly perpetual grin. One very pale blue eye was covered by a patch, and a nasty scar ripping down that side of his face that played hell with he muscles there. Still, he was, to put it bluntly, damn pretty. 

I knew Harli’d had a crush on him for a while before my brother, and who could blame him? I had a little crush. 

He twisted to look at us with one of his easy grins. 

“I think this once, I can forgive you all for not getting the prize.” He snarked. “But just this once. Has anyone seen the _Bastion_?” His expression tried to remain professional curiosity, but I saw it, and I was sure he others did, too. 

Concern. He was worried. 

I glanced at Amerok, who caught my eye. Yeah, he’d seen it, at least. Unsurprising- my brother missed very little. 

No one was entirely sure what was ‘up’ with Rook and the captian of the _Bastion_ -yes, the ship had the same damn name as me-, but something was, for damn sure, and had been for years. They hated each other, supposedly, but I’d seen them protect each other and fight side by side with my own eyes. It was something I didn’t think would ever get explained, not fully. 

And none of us would push. 

“I’ve not seen it.” I admitted, as Piper shrugged helplessly, and Amerok shook his head. Synclair made a helpless _I duno_ sort of motion, and Harli couldn’t quite look up, as if he was guilty, somehow. Rook sighed, then forced the smile on again. “Hey, I’m sure if anyone can get out of this shit, it’s that bastard.” I tried, and his smile became a little more real. 

“Bet you’re right, love.” He replied with a wink, and the ship kicked into powerful forward motion. The roar of the engine filled my ears, and I turned to watch Azule Falls vanish in our wake. The golden light was so brilliant it was nearly hard to look at, even indirectly, but I didn’t want to look away, either. I could feel it- hear it, somewhere in the back of my mind.

“Bast.” Amerok’s cool voice, calm, near my ear. “Look at me, little brother.” 

It was harder to do, I thought, then it should have been. Pulling my eyes from the light to my brother at last, I blinked, and it felt like a fog being lifted from my eyes and mind.

“That’s how it’s getting them.” I murmured, sharing my earlier thought. “Like a snake.”   
He nodded, grimly. “It transfixes. Hypnotizes.” 

“So why didn’t it get to you?” 

“It tried.” Was all he said, before brushing my hair out of my eyes. My brother, the human Robocop. Of course it hadn’t affected him. “Stay away from the windows and stay inside.” 

“Yes, dad.” I made a face, but I knew he was right. I gently closed the porthole covers as Callista took her seat next to Rook. 

“Everyone on board safe?” I asked, plunking down behind them. 

“Yeah. You were the only ones on the surface.” Rook replied. “And a couple of crew members tried to walk off the deck, but we grabbed ‘em before they got far. Everyone’s fine.” 

“Good.” Harli was leaning against the wall, eyes closed. “I guess we can report this one as danger-shit!” He yelped as we rocked again, violently pitching to one side. 

“I think we found the _Bastion_.” Synclair gritted, bracing himself as we rocked again. “And something tells me Zephyr blames us for this.” 

“Of course he does.” Rook gritted. “Can he just- _can you just wait until we’re clear of this bullshit, please_?!” He roared, towards the ceiling, as if Zephyr could hear him. We raced ahead of the _Bastion_ \- it was more powerful, but we were faster by far. I knew Rook would moderate his speed enough to watch and make sure the bigger ship got clear, too. Hell, part of me wondered if the _Bastion_ bumping us was more it’s way to let us know it was there more then any real attempt to stop us. Knowing Zephyr it was entirely possible; I wouldn’t think he was stupid enough to try and stop us now. I said so, and Rook paused, then swore. 

“Fuck him for being a confusing bastard.” He gritted, before making a sharp swerve and pulling even with the bigger ship. 

The _Bastion_ was easily twice the _Gyrfalcon_ ’s size, huge and reddish brown, nearly the same color as Rook’s hair. The flags it flew were the colors of the Capital and the Order- one set gold and silver for the former, and black grey for the later. They were still up, as the _Bastion_ was never meant for speed. I put one port window up just enough to see it, huge and looming beside us. 

I could see their own first matenwatching us. As I watched, he signaled us to follow. 

“They want us to follow.” I reported. “Samandriel is signaling.” 

“Rook?” Callista glanced at him, and there was a long pause before he growled in answer and turned the Gyrfalcon after them. 

“Go below and tell Nicodemus that we’re needing to bring it in a bit. We’re gonna put the sails back up and slow to the Bastion’s pace. 

“He’s not gonna be happy.” I pointed out, already on my feet. We were still close to that light- way close. And it was still moving, if slowly- any movement was enough to make me uncomfortable as hell. 

“I don’t care if he’s happy. Tell him to bring it in. _Now_.” 

“I’m going, I’m going.” I muttered, making my was down carefully to the bowels of the ship. 

The engine room was loud, smelly, hot and close. I hated it down there, especially as a claustrophobic , and avoided it as much as possible- which I knew bothered Nico. He and I had been close since even before the Falcon- I’d go so far as to say he was even closer to me then Harli, who I’d met on the Falcon. He wanted me to stay down below when I had to go down there, and I knew that he got lonely. I felt like I'd ditched him, more then once; but I  _hated_ it down there. 

“Hey, Nico!” I called out, brushing aside a bit of machinery. “Nicodemus. Where are you?” 

“Down- _ow_ \- down here!” Came the reply, from a little hatch that lead even deeper into the ship. I shuddered at the mere sight of it. His head came into view moments later, blonde hair wild and covered in grease. It was smeared across one cheek, but his grin was as bright and beautiful as ever, and his brown eyes gleamed. “Hey. Everyone holding tight up there?” 

  
“Lil’ bit of a bumpy ride, but we’re alive. Rook wants to slow it down.” 

“Rook wants to _what_? _Now_? Has he seen what’s behind us?” 

I snorted. “Kinda hard not to. The _Bastion_ wants us to follow her.”

Nicodemus sighed deeply, then gave me a salute. “Of course it does. And of course he is, the lovesick idiot.”

I laughed in surprise. Only Nico would say what we were all thinking. “Maybe keep that part to yourself. Do I need to get Rook down here, or Callista?...”

“No need to threaten me, boy, I’m doin’ it, I’m doin’ it.” He whined, his head vanishing below the hatch again as he growled once more. A few minutes later, I could feel Rook slow us and haul up the flags. The Falcon lurched, as if protesting the abrupt slowdown like a horse fighting the bit, wanting to run. It didn’t help the sense of claustrophobia.

“I- should get back topside.” I called down, with a wince. There was another thump and another “Ow!” before he popped back up. As I’d suspected, he looked a little like a kicked puppy. 

“…Yeah. I guess you’d better.” He murmured, and dammit, I shouldn’t feel so bad about just wanting to go back topside and stop feeling like I was suffocating.

“Look, why don’t- if we come through all this, we can hang out later, okay?” 

He gave me an oddly crooked, almost sad little smile. “Yeah. Okay.” He replied, as I heard Synclair call my name from above. I started to back towards the door, then turned and quickly walked out before I could stop myself. Or try to, anyway. 

Back up top, everything had been opened; the deck out in open air, cockpit raised into it’s more typical spot. Our own flags were flying proudly once more, deep crimson and gold. I wasn’t sure why we flew those colors- like many other things, Rook would never tell us. I had a few educated guesses, though. 

Across from us, the _Bastion_ soared, slow and ponderous, and behind us, the city was slowly fading from sight. The light seemed to mostly have stopped, content now that it had driven us off or killed us, it seemed. And then the Bastion came to a halt, and as we did, too, Zephyr moved into sight. He was handsome, in a dark, intense sort of way. Zephyr Pendeghast- semi-famous for his team of hunters, bringing in magical artifacts he deemed dangerous and locking them away. His hair was solid white; I wasn’t sure what the entire reason for it was, but rumor said something he’d gone after had lashed out at him and turned it that color. Others said it was a result of spending so much time around powerful artifacts. 

Whatever it was, it had leeched all the color out of his hair but his brows stayed deep, jet black. It had either leeched the color out of his spooky silver eyes, too, or they’d always been that colorless pale grey. 

Standing tall aboard his ship, he called out to us in his pack-a-day-smoker’s rasp; deep and gravelly. It was always surprising, as it didn’t fit him, but _damn_ if I wouldn’t have pinned him up against the wall and licked my way down his body while he rumbled to me in that voice. 

 

...What?   
  
“Rook! In the name of the city of Azule Falls and the Order, you and your crew are in my custody.” In a far less official tone- “What the _hell_ did you do?” 

“Us?” Rook pushed up from his seat at last, favoring his left leg slightly.Noted and filed; I knew Callista probably had already seen the weak leg playing up but I kept my own mental notes. “We didn’t do this, Zephyr.” 

“Oh no? Why don’t I believe you?”

“Because you’re an obsessed paranoid bastard?” Rook snipped, instantly, and, before Zephyr could reply- “We didn’t touch the damn painting. We’re not that stupid. Even you should know that.” I’d swear he was offended that Zephyr, personally, assumed he’d act without thinking and cause this. 

He was silent, lips thin. “Then what or who activated it?” 

“How th’ fuck should I know?” Rook snapped back. Zephyr stopped, lips thin, jaw set. “It didn’t activate on it’s own, Rook.” 

“Proximity. You, us- the proximity probably set them off.” Rook barked right back. “If anything it was you lot who caused it to happen. It was quiet as a mouse when it was just us.” 

Zephyr didn’t like that; I could tell. I could see it in the set of his jaw and the flash in his eyes. Much like Amerok, he tried to control his emotions, particularly his anger, but I’d learned to read him, much like I’d learned to read Amerok. 

“Are you going to make a thing about this?” I gritted. “Because hanging out here isn’t the best idea.”

“We’re safe here.” The new voice was the man I knew was Zephyr’s first mate; tall and slender, and a head full of thick hair, blonde in back and dyed blue in the longer front portion. Samandriel Hyndrix –

-Samandriel Hyndrix who was not remotely human. Behind him flared his wings- huge hawk like things that flared out longer then he was tall. On his shoulder sat a creature that both was and was not a mouse or rat. About as long as a forearm in body, not counting his tail; that added some more length to it. Right at the moment, Pik was cream colored and white, but he would only stay that way for as long as he felt like it. He was as smart as a human, or at least a human child. 

Sam himself was a man made creation. I had no idea who had made him or why, but he was the only one like himself I had ever seen, and I had no idea what he’d been made for. 

  
He’d said once that he had had a race, and they’d had a name, but he’d not said what or what happened to them, just that they weren’t in existence anymore. He'd told me they'd been created for defense, living weapons- he refused to say anything beyond  _they're all gone, now._

“You know it, too.” He went on. “That light won’t chase past the limits of Azule Falls.” 

“I hope. I can’t know anything for sure and neither can you.” I snipped back, and he smirked, fluttering those great wings at me. “Please don’t be coy and _don’t_ pretend to be stupid, Bast.”

“I’m not-“ 

“Children, if you’re going to cat-fight, wait until we can get a really big pool of pudding or something.” Rook didn’t take his eyes off of Zephyr, even as he smirked. “Otherwise, take your corners and shut up. The adults are talking.” 

“That was a really fucked up mixing of metaphors, there, Rook.”

“Those weren’t metaphors, Bast. _Shut up_.”

This time I subsided. I knew Rook’s tone when he was being playful and when you really needed to shut the fuck up and listen.

“This is what happens when magical artifacts exist unchecked, Rook.” Zephyr spoke, after a few moments. “People get hurt and people die.” 

“You can’t control and regulate everything magical.” Rook growled back. “People have a right to that power if they can use and understand it.” 

“Hypocritical bastard.” Zephyr barked a laugh, and I saw Rook’s jaw clench. 

“That’s bullshit. Don’t go there.” He replied, tightly. “Either come after us or go the hell away.” 

Callista stepped up to him, one hand protectively on his shoulder. On his other side, Amerok moved up quietly. I stood next to my brother, and Synclair and Harli stood just at our flanks- a defiant, defensive force. 

Zephyr sighed, quietly. 

“I can’t just let you walk away, Rook.” 

“Well of course not. That wouldn’t be any fun.” Rook grinned brightly, and Amerok let out an exasperated breath. “We’ll even slow down for you!” 

Zephyr was about to reply when someone else came up on deck. I didn’t know the person by name, and I wasn’t totally surprised. Technically, the Order was aligned with the military of the city of Brieze and their crews tended to be huge. The sad fact was, they were also largely disposable. Zephyr probably wouldn’t have been able to tell you half his crew member’s names. 

The person spoke into Sam’s ear, and the man’s wings abruptly flared and ruffled as he turned to Zephyr, and on his shoulder the small creature bristled and even as I watched Pik’s fur shifted to a fireworks display of sharp reds and yellows, racing across his fur brightly. I wasn’t sure what the color changes meant, but clearly it meant _something_ , from the way Sam reached out to smooth down his fur and tuck him gently away, from the reactions around- and from the way Zephyr tensed, full body, when Sam leaned in to whisper. He was speaking so damn low I couldn’t hear him, and then he and Zephyr turned and walked away without a backwards glance. 

“Zephyr.” Rook called, then, louder- “ _Zephyr_.” But the man didn’t even pause, didn’t think about stopping. 

“What the hell?” Callista rasped, brow furrowed. 

“I don’t know.” Rook replied, watching the _Bastion_ move away. “But we’re going to find out.”

 


End file.
